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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955267">the wrong thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaKalomi/pseuds/LeilaKalomi'>LeilaKalomi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon: Good Omens, Pre-Fall Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:35:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaKalomi/pseuds/LeilaKalomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale sees a very beautiful angel standing outside a forbidden door. Or: Crowley saunters vaguely downwards.</p><p>Created for NTA: Round 5 in the GO Events Discord server, for the prompt "There is a door that should never be open. It's open."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Name That Author Round Five: After Dark Redux</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the wrong thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s down there?” asked an angel. (We won’t tell you his name because he can’t, not anymore.)</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” said Michael. She waved her hand, directing him away from the closed door. “There’s nothing down there yet.”</p><p>“What does that <em>mean</em>?” asked the angel. He tossed his head indignantly, and his red hair cascaded over his shoulder. A principality watching this exchange thought he was very beautiful. (Later, the prinicpality wouldn’t remember the angel’s name, wouldn’t remember having met him.)</p><p>“Not in front of these new little angels,” Michael said, pushing him away from the principalities (there were four of them in all).</p><p>The principality looked at the door.</p>
<hr/><p>Aziraphale (the principality; the new little angel) stayed with his ilk in the little corner reserved for the angels going to Earth. None of them got out much. But this beautiful angel had turned his head. He didn’t know where to find him again, so he started to hang out by the door, the door Michael had pushed him away from.</p><p>Aziraphale was afraid to try to talk to him. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t an archangel or anything, and Aziraphale wasn’t <em>shy</em> in general. A little anxious, maybe. Nervous about doing the right thing. Or the wrong thing. But there was no reason this would be the wrong thing. Was there?</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t ask anyone. Maybe that meant it was the wrong thing.</p>
<hr/><p>“You there,” the angel said, seeing Aziraphale lingering by the door.</p><p>Aziraphale turned. He’d been looking elsewhere, pretending to be absorbed in adjusting the folds of his new tunic. But the voice of that angel was stirring. When he looked up, the angel was standing beside him, close. His voice was like a melody, dark and sweet and enticing.</p><p>“Did you find out what’s down there?” Aziraphale asked. He felt desperate to be interesting, to hold his attention.</p><p>“Oh, look at that,” the angel said. “Looks like someone was listening to the archangels.”</p><p>“You’re not an archangel,” Aziraphale said. It came out too sharp. The other angel’s mouth flew open.</p><p>“Oh, what have we here? A wayward principality?” the angel said. But he was smiling. Aziraphale frowned, confused. The other angel’s eyes were like liquid gold; the color of them seemed to flow.</p><p>“I’m not wayward,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“No?” The angel leaned in, his curls brushing against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Why don’t we find out? Some of the others went down last week.”</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed. “I’m not sure we should,” he said. “What’s a week?”</p><p>The angel smirked.</p><p>“What’s behind door number one,” he said, inexplicably. He looked at Aziraphale as if he expected laughter, so Aziraphale obliged, even though everything he’d said was very confusing. The angel <em>was</em> <em>very</em> beautiful, after all; that was why Aziraphale was here, after all.</p><p>The angel snapped his fingers and the door sprung open. He sauntered through it and onto the stairs behind it, making his way vaguely downward.</p><p>Aziraphale called out to him. He did not respond.</p>
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